THE FIRST alarm sounded too human.
A bell.
One clear strike from somewhere above Caleb's head, then another, then so many that the white room seemed to ring from inside its walls.
The witness panels cracked again.
Sam's reflection split into four versions of his face. Rina's panel whitened at the edges. Sefa's green outline bent as if the glass had started drinking him through light.
Caleb put one hand out.
"Hold."
The word left him too large.
Every panel stopped cracking.
Every bell stopped between one strike and the next.
The silence had weight.
Soma's voice came through the nearest panel, thin and shocked. "Caleb?"
Caleb looked at his hand.
Silver covered it now. Skin, nail, knuckle, the fine lines across his palm, all bright and still his.
"Mine," he said.
The room accepted the correction with a sound like teeth unclenching.
The woman watched from the painted door.
"You see the problem."
"I see your problem."
